


Changing Crowns

by LadyNorbert



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Orlais (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 22:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/pseuds/LadyNorbert
Summary: After the Blight, Celene learns that the new King Alistair is already betrothed. Instead, she accepts the suggestion that she marry his widowed sister-in-law Anora, a woman she has long admired.





	Changing Crowns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelle/gifts).

> I tagged the both of you because you both requested this pairing, and I was taken aback at how well it flowed. I actually stopped it where I did because it was threatening to become much, much longer. I really hope you both enjoy it - I never considered these two but they worked so well together!

With the Blight quelled and a new king installed on Ferelden's throne, Empress Celene was in a situation she could never have foreseen.

She had extended an offer of marriage to the new king's half-brother, Cailan. The official response had never arrived, but Cailan's death on the battlefield had been enough of an answer. It satisfied her council, however temporarily, that she had at least made an effort. A similar offer was extended to the newly installed king, but this time the response was swift - a carefully worded letter which amounted to 'thanks, but no thanks.' The king was already betrothed to the woman who had defeated the Archdemon.

She would have to watch a union as powerful as that one. She lacked her predecessors' desire to conquer Ferelden, but that didn't mean she wanted to see it become so toothsome as to be a genuine threat.

However, there was a second part to the letter which she found interesting enough to read a few times. The maid poured her a fresh cup from her enchanted teapot, and she leaned back in her chair, sipping languidly and poring over the words.

> Your Radiance,
> 
> I trust you will forgive my impertinence in addressing you, but there is a matter at hand which I think we can help one another to solve. Permit the introduction; my name is Elissa Cousland. I am the youngest child and only daughter of the late Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever, and sister to the new claimant of that title, Fergus Cousland. I am also the betrothed of the newly crowned King Alistair and, in common report, they call me the Hero of Ferelden.
> 
> As part of my husband-to-be inheriting the throne of his late brother, there has been some disagreement about what to do regarding the Dowager Queen, Anora mac Tir. She is, after all, family - something my Alistair does not take lightly - and he wants to give her all the honor due to both her near relation and her rightful position. We have offered to restore to her the Teyrnir of Gwaren, which was under the governance of her late father; she has declined. We have also offered to arrange a second marriage for her with the noble of her choosing, but this too she has declined. She reveres the memory of her father and feels that no man could hope to meet the example he sets. She is also reluctant to return to Gwaren, where she passed so much of her childhood, and face the memories it will resurrect. Having lost both of my own parents just prior to the battle at Ostagar, I can appreciate her feelings.
> 
> The arrival of your letter, therefore, seems to be a providence of the Maker. 
> 
> I have heard it said that you once met Queen Anora, and that you called her "a solitary rose among brambles." I found it such a charming turn of phrase that I couldn't help remembering it. I also know that Queen Anora has tremendous respect for Your Majesty, being an admirer of your political acumen, your devotion to your people, and your efforts for the preservation of peace. Many of my countrymen are distrustful of Orlais, but I share her admiration and hope to continue to maintain allegiance between our nations.
> 
> To that end, let me make this offer. As I cannot, for reasons chiefly of affection, consent to your offer to marry my dear Alistair, I would like to instead propose that the friendship between Orlais and Ferelden be cemented through marriage for yourself and Queen Anora. I have ventured to discuss it with her, which I'm sure you understand seemed only right before sitting down to write a letter negotiating a betrothal on her behalf, and she is not opposed to the idea. I believe she rather likes the idea of leaving Ferelden, in truth, and the beauties of Orlais are such that I think she will be happy there. I also believe that the two of you will enjoy one another's company and that the union will be a blessing for all concerned.
> 
> If Your Majesty is amenable to the plan, we will make the arrangements as soon as possible for the queen to journey to Orlais. 
> 
> With greatest respect and friendship, I remain,
> 
> Elissa Cousland
> 
> Queen-Elect and Warden-Commander of Ferelden

Anora mac Tir, Empress-Consort of Orlais. Celene finished her tea and studied the bottom for a moment. It was said that in Rivain, the wise women could portend the future by reading tea leaves, and she tried to divine a meaning in the scattered fragments of tea leaves.

_ The rose among brambles _ . Oh, yes, she remembered that day. Anora was 25 and newly married, her silly boyish husband having just been crowned a few months earlier. Clear skin, eyes like the sea, golden hair looped in braids... yes, she could captivate anyone. Celene had been just 21 herself, on the throne of Orlais for a full five years, and not so besotted even with her Briala that she could fail to notice charms like Anora's. It was a formal visit to the backwater country, partly out of curiosity to see how it conducted itself without Orlais overseeing it, and partly to extend courtesies to the new monarchs.

She took little note of Cailan at the time, except to be amused at how he answered his wife's beck and call with a puppyish eagerness. It was mildly endearing in its way, though she imagined it grew tiresome after a while. Anora, on the other hand, was clearly going to be the one to run the country, and under her care it might even prosper. It did, in fact, for five years. Then Cailan died, then many people died, and Anora was deposed.

And now she was alone in the world, much like Celene herself.

That they could be companions, she had no doubt. They were both educated women, passionate readers, interested in the arts. Anora's experience as a ruler was not so much less than her own; she would be a genuinely useful consort. Charming, fiercely independent, and uncommonly lovely in appearance - with proper Orlesian fashion to accent her natural gifts, she would be stunning. The alliance would silence her advisors who kept trying to push a man into her bed; now the only danger would be that she might not be willing to leave it in the mornings. It had been a long time since that had been the case. 

She had a wedding to plan - but first, a letter to write.

* * *

Under the circumstances, as Anora was still technically in mourning for both her husband and her father, it was decided to delay the wedding for a few months. She would come to Orlais directly, to begin life in her new home and begin making the adjustments required, and perhaps on the far side of the Frostbacks she could find some ease to her grief. After her six months in black silk were concluded, they would marry. By then, King Alistair's marriage would also have taken place, and if the situation in Blight-ravaged Ferelden permitted the royal pair's absence, they would come for the ceremony.

Celene really didn't know how Anora felt about any of the arrangement; her reply to the formal marriage proposal was genteel and gracious, but somewhat emotionless. As she awaited the traveling party's arrival at the Winter Palace, she found herself fretting, hoping that she could help soothe her bride's unhappiness. It took her by surprise to feel this way. Ever since Briala had left, she had gone to tremendous effort to care as little as possible for anyone. Anora had not even arrived, and she was already affecting Celene.

"Your Majesty," said the Dowager, not unkindly, as she kept the waiting Empress company, "I must ask. With all respect, how will your marriage to the Ferelden queen ease anyone's mind about the future of the empire? How will you give us the heir we need?"

"Your concerns are noted, old friend. But the Maker has seen fit to give us this gift, to maintain peace with Ferelden and place them in our debt at the same time," Celene replied. "Have faith. He will see to it that Orlais continues to prosper under a wise hand. He has never forgotten us, so we must trust in Him."

"Yes, madam."

Word came that the bridal party was approaching, and Celene went to welcome her new consort. She watched from the top of the courtyard stairs as Anora exited her carriage. She was weary; that much was evident even from a distance. As she descended the stairs slowly, methodically, she watched Anora take in the sight of the palace. Her wide blue gaze traveled over the architecture, the gold statuary, the sparkling fountain, and eventually found its home on Celene's masked face. Anora would need her own masks, Celene realized; what a tragedy it was, to conceal such beauty away from everyone's eyes. It would only be for herself to savor, in private. The thought put butterflies into her stomach.

"Your Majesty, how wonderful to see you again. We are glad to welcome you to Orlais, and already it is made that much brighter by your presence."

"Your Radiance." Anora inclined her head gracefully. The coiled braids at the nape of her neck were even lovelier than Celene remembered, so much more vivid than her own pale hair; wisps of golden thread were escaping from the style, giving Anora something of a halo. "Your invitation to ally with you was so generous. I will always be grateful for your kindness after these months of difficulty."

"You and your country have suffered many tragedies. Here in Orlais - in your new home - it is our hope that you will find peace and joy once more."

Behind her, the Dowager coughed ever so slightly. They had an audience, Celene remembered; some indication of affection was expected, given the circumstance. She therefore reached out and took Anora’s hands in her own, drawing them to her heart. “It is our hope and our intent,” she continued. “We will endeavor to soothe your pain, and be the shield which protects you from future sorrows.” Hearing a few murmurs of sympathy and simpering, she knew she was winning the small crowd, who didn’t need it; but Anora, who did, blinked at her and smiled sweetly.

“My Empress is gracious,” she replied. 

“You are weary,” said Celene. “Your journey was long, and we will not keep you from the comforts of rest any further.” Still keeping Anora’s hand in her own, she swept her way back into the palace, guiding the new arrival up to the rooms which had been prepared for her. She shooed away those who would follow, scolding them about Anora’s right to privacy, and ushered her through the door. After a pause, she locked it behind them.

“This will be your suite,” she said, showing her through the rooms. “Our dear cousin Florianne stays in the rooms opposite when she is here, but she is on a state visit at present. No one will disturb you, we will not permit it. This door leads to your wardrobe, and this to your bathing chamber. Your sitting room is here, and this is your bedroom. The door beside your bed leads to our own suite, should you have need of us.”

“I fear, my Empress,” said Anora tiredly, “that I will find I have need of you. The death of my husband left me a widow, and the death of my father left me entirely alone.”

“You are alone no longer.” She pressed a brief kiss to the corner of Anora’s mouth. “But for now you should rest.”

“Will you…” Anora’s mouth twisted oddly; she was, Celene realized, unused to making requests for such things. “Will you stay with me while I do?”

“If you like, my rose, we will stay.”


End file.
